


A Dream Hidden in a Nightmare. A Past forgotten. A Past Recalled.

by speedfanfic



Series: Song Inspired One-Shots [2]
Category: EXO (Band), I guess it could be a continuation of one of my fics of, No Fandom, OC - Fandom, One-shot - Fandom, one shot - Fandom
Genre: Amnesia, Car Accident, F/M, I am guessing, I don't know how to tag this, Inspired by Music, Kevin Oh, Linkin Park - Freeform, M/M, Nightmare, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 19:37:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17814242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speedfanfic/pseuds/speedfanfic
Summary: I don't know what this is.Wait, yes I do. Sadness. Confusion.Sadness and confusion.Written in one sitting. Un beta-ed





	A Dream Hidden in a Nightmare. A Past forgotten. A Past Recalled.

**Author's Note:**

> Warning about sad themes such as nightmares, amnesia and a very vague description of a car accident.
> 
> Lyrics used in beginning:  
> Leave out all the rest - Linkin Park  
> The Lover - Kevin Oh

I dreamed I was missing  
You were so scared  
But no one would listen  
'Cause no one else cared  
…  
I can’t even give an excuse to you  
What I thought was love  
Has now faded and I can’t take it anymore  


 

It was a cold autumn night when the nightmare first started.

He jolted from his sleep, covered in a cold sweat. The window was cracked, and a cold breeze flitted in to brush against him. He shivered, but made to move to get up and close the window.

Instead he lay there, staring at the ceiling above him. The jarring noise of a door slamming was still echoing in his mind, though most of the nightmare had floated just past his reach.

_A door slamming. Silent tears, a heavy sadness._

He can’t remember what the nightmare was about. Or was it a dream? Did he shed happy-- the thought flows away before it finishes.

He can’t remember. Why did he wake up so early? The room is freezing. He slides out of the blankets to shut the window, then scurries back to the warmth of the bed. He falls into a sound sleep only a minute later.

\-----

It is nearly two months later when the nightmare returns.

It is the night after the first snowfall of the winter, and the temperature is below freezing. He lays in bed, covered in the one blanket he owns. It is thin and barely long enough to cover him from ankle to shoulder.

The time nears midnight as he starts to shiver even more violently then he has during the night. A cold sweat covers him, and his shirt sticks to his skin. The pillow under his head is drenched in sweat a short few minutes later.

He jolts awake as the time hits 12:30. He lays there, staring at the ceiling. His mouth is scorched, like a desert sun.

_A door slamming. Silent tears, a heavy sadness. Bare feet in the grass. Running._

The nightmare slips out of his range of memory until he can’t even remember why he woke. He turns onto his stomach to fall asleep once more, except the pillow under his head is soaked. Which is weird, it's too cold for sweat. He flips the pillow over, and lays his head down.

He’s asleep a short few minutes later.

\-----

It isn’t until several months later that the nightmare returns.

It is the middle of spring, and the weather is nice enough that he is able to leave the window cracked without shivering.

For once, his blanket is of the right thinness to ensure a peaceful sleep. Or it should be.

The clock ticks towards one when the dream starts. He begin to shiver a couple minutes later, and it isn't until a few minutes after that that his body is covered in a cold sweat. The clock continues to tick towards one thirty.

It reaches one forty-five. He starts crying. Silent tears, unheard and yet heavy in their flow.  
He jolts to consciousness a few minutes later.

He stares at the ceiling for several minutes, gulping the tears down until his heartbeat slows back to normal.

_A dark room. A figure sitting hunched over a table, hands holding onto a mug. Silent tears, a heavy sadness. Turning and running. A door slamming. Bare feet in the grass. Moonlight illuminating the surroundings. Trees._

He continues to lay in the bed and stare at the ceiling until the clock reaches two thirty. Tears try to push their way up his throat, but he fights them back.

He can’t believe he was so stupid.  
He can't believe he forgot.

He lets the tears come. They take over, flowing down his face in rivulets until they drip off his chin and onto his neck. His breathing hitches, unsteady, until it catches and he can’t breathe. 

_He can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t--_

The thought fades out. Why is his face damp? Why is there such an ache in his chest, like somethings missing? He shakes the feeling off, or at least he tries to. A morsel of it remains, like he’s getting repeatedly stabbed in the chest.

He fights it off. He turns onto his stomach to sleep except the pillow under his head is soaked. He flips it over and lays his head down to fall asleep.

\-----

The last time the nightmare returns, it is a hot summer night.

The window is open, letting in a draft in the hopes of cooling him off. His blanket is in a heap at the edge of his bed. He left his shirt on the floor.

He falls asleep in a sweaty fit.

The clock ticks towards midnight. Passes midnight. Ticks towards one and passes it. Clicks towards two, and the nightmare starts. He starts shivering. His body is coated in a cold sweat, even more than when he first managed to fall asleep.

The clock continues to tick.

The clock ticks towards three when he starts to cry. Heavy tears, filled with aching and longing. His breathe hitches and catches and he can’t breathe.

_He can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe_

The tears fall down his face, dripping off his face to land on his neck. They join in with the sweat, and fall in rivulets down his body. They travel down his chest, down his stomach. Some pool near his hip bones, while the rest continue down the band of his pants.

The clock continues to tick.

The clock reaches four. He jolts awake, and for the first time in nearly a year, does not stay laying in bed. He sits up, gulping down the tears and trying to push back the aching and longing. Then the dream returns to him and he freezes. 

_A dark room. Yelling, harsh words exchanged. A figure sitting hunched over a table, hands holding onto a mug. Silent tears, a heavy sadness. Turning and running. A door slamming. Bare feet in the grass. Moonlight illuminating the surroundings. Trees. A road. Headlights. Tires screeching. A collision. Blood. Unconsciousness. Wakening in a brightly lit room. White walls, white bedding. Confusion. People. Questioning, questioning, and more confusion. Sighing, words exchanged, falling asleep. Being discharged. Starting over. A new life. No - wait - but -_

The memories flood him until he’s drowning in them and the tears come once more. Hitched breathe, noise, can’t breathe. A decision is made.

Shoes are hurriedly put on and tied. A shirt flung over his head. He rushes out into the dull morning, his past calling to him.


End file.
